And He Was Happy
by Jakinos
Summary: The presentation of the suitors for Princess Elinor's hand through Fergus' eyes. Oneshot. Please read and review!


A/N: Heyo, people of the interwebs. I have another humble little posting to present to you. I hope you like it! Please note that reviews are very much appreciated. I might do this in Elinor's POV later if I have the chance. AP Euro History is extremely time-consuming and I don't have much time to sit and let my ideas flow anymore. BUT, I have found time (AT FREAKING 3 IN THE MORNING) to post this sooo... BE HAPPY!

Disclaimer.- I OWN EVERYTHING!... okay no I don't. Disney/Pixar and their twisted corporate ladder does.

Standing amongst the mass of his clan, Fergus had never felt so alone. As the firstborn of the Lord MacGuffin, it was now time for him to compete for the fair princess's hand in marriage. The ornate wooden doors loomed over him, giant and menacing. His father clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Are ye ready lad?"

Fergus could only shake his head. He doubted if he'd ever be ready.

His father gave a booming laugh, and shook his head. Growing serious he added, "Ye conduct yerself befitting the clan DunBroch, ye hear?"

"Yes, father."

"Good lad."

With a final shake of his son's shoulder, Lord DunBroch opened the doors. Fergus stepped forward with the rest of the crowd, thoughts grim and heart heavy. _What if she's ugly? What if she's cruel? What if she's stupid?_

He shook his head in a futile effort to banish the harrowing thought from his mind, and entered the throne room. And then stopping dead in his tracks. He received odd stares, and his broad shoulders caused more than a few angry glares, but none of that mattered. He had laid eyes on the princess.

_Well, the worry that's she's ugly is certainly dealt with. _And indeed it was. The princess was quite possibly the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Long, dark hair down to a slim waist, fair skin and golden amber eyes scanning the crowds, no doubt wondering the same things as he. His attention was transferred from the petite beauty to the Queen as her majesty stood and cleared her throat.

"Thank ye all for attending. As ye all know, ye are here to compete for the hand of my daughter, Princess Elinor!"

A resounding cheer met this statement but Fergus mind was elsewhere. _Elinor. _Even her name was beautiful. Elinor stood gracefully, her deep amethyst gown hugging her curves in such a way that Fergus felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and acknowledged the suitors. As she settled back onto her throne, Lord Macintosh broke free of the masses.

Easily distinguishable by his lion's mane hair and blue war paint, Lord Macintosh was boisterous and arrogant. "Yer majesties." He started respectfully, "I present to ye, my son Hoolihan Macintosh."

A lanky youth stepped forward, with hair and paint to match his father's. He stood proudly, hips cocked at an angle, every part of him screaming 'I'm better than you'. Fergus decided at once that he hated him. Lord Macintosh began to spin off a tale (that everybody knew was a load of rubbish), but Fergus wasn't paying attention, and neither was the young Macintosh. Fergus followed the other suitor's gaze and found that the other man (Hoolihan was it?) was fixated upon the princess. The skinny man sent the princess a suggestive leer and the firstborn DunBroch found himself practically red with anger. He'd kill the other suitor. (His eyes would be the first to go). When Fergus looked at the princess to gauge her reaction, he was relieved to see nothing more than mild disgust on her face.

Fergus was distracted by Lord Dingwall's loud scoff. The stout man puffed out his chest and presented himself before the royals. Straw colored hair tied in odd ponytails, the Lord Dingwall was the insane uncle you would always avoid at feast-times.

"I think we all know what a load of nonsense that was. _Especially _the bit about that twig bein' king. I would like to introduce to ye your TRUE king, Balor Dingwall."

The young lord Dingwall was a small lad with a rather blank expression. He stared off into the distance, focusing on something far within the reaches of his mind.

"My son vanquished one-hundred ships to the south, slaying countless barbarians. When he raised his mighty hammer, the vicious warriors cowered in fear of his might..." And so the Lord Dingwall carried on the tradition of ridiculous, unbelievable exaggerations. Meanwhile his son looked like he might have fallen asleep standing up. Fergus almost laughed aloud at the look of absolute disbelief plastered all over Elinor's face. (He hadn't even talked to her yet and he could already read her like an open book) Dingwall Elder finished his tirade and nodded firmly, secure in the belief that HIS son would be the king, all thanks to his clever story-telling.

Now that the other suitors had had their say, his own father, Lord DunBroch, stepped forward. Not one for lies or tall tales, DunBroch Sr. was a blunt man, and he showed it.

" My son Fergus." Said man took that as his cue and, praying to all deities listening to lend him luck, stepped forward. At once he was the focus of Elinor's sharp gaze, her amber eyes piercing him to the core. He gulped and found himself growing red under her scrutiny. He met her gaze proudly though, studying the heart shape of her face, the defined slope of her jaw, her luscious pink lips, committing her face to memory, trying to remember every detail.

"He is a strong lad. None can beat him in a match of swords, and his aim is true in archery. He is a brave man, and stubborn as an ox. Fiercely loyal, I believe he would make a fine king."

Fergus enjoyed his fathers praise. Hr was proud of the approving looks he received from the King and Queen. But, what made that fateful day _so _memorable, was the event that happened at the end.

The wonderful, amazing, beautiful Princess Elinor smiled at him. And Fergus was happy.


End file.
